love, or something
by nadeau
Summary: In which a Jewish orphan falls in love with an American soldier. — AU. IchiHime.
1. prologue

**warning; **this story contains explicit language, violence, and sexual themes.  
**disclaimer; **all bleach characters belong to Tite Kubo.

**synopsis; **Takes place in Germany during WWII. Kurosaki Ichigo, an American soldier, finds Inoue Orihime, a Jewish orphan, in Merkstein-Herbach. They soon build a relationship in his army camp. But as Ichigo's infantry leaves the camp to move further into Germany, will they ever meet again?

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**love, or something  
**prologue

* * *

_**October 5, 1944; 12:08 p.m. **_

Kurosaki Ichigo crept along the thick forests of northern Germany, tightly grasping a M1941 Johnson machine gun in his soiled, calloused hands. His fellow troops surrounded him. The same soldiers that have been through so much with him… so much misery, torture, despair, and horror like no one could imagine. Ichigo scowled, removing his cluttered thoughts, and quickly focused on the task at hand. His machine gun pointed forward and his dark, chocolate eyes scanned the numerous trees around them, looking for...

Looking for...

Looking for _what_, exactly? His _enemies_? Who were his enemies?

The troops were ordered to kill the Nazis. These group of people, along with the Japanese and Italians, were part of the Axis Powers, the bad guys, the _enemies._ But Ichigo didn't even acknowledge them. They were strangers, unknowns. How was he expected to kill them? Because someone 'important' said they were _bad_?

He scowled once more.

_Stop thinking,_ he inwardly warned himself. _Because once you start, you realize how fucked up this war shit is. You realize how you don't know how you got where you are, you don't know where you're going, and you don't know what to do anymore._

His friend, Yasutora Sado, extended his arms, reaching out and brushing back a long veil of leafy, green vines draped down from a thick tree branch. The troops in Ichigo's infantry cautiously stepped into a clearing thick of weeds, trees, mud, and rocks. They all swept their guns over the underbrush, waiting for somebody to shoot.

Suddenly, a crashed plane came into view, smashed against a thick tree trunk and hissing a thick column of ashy-black smoke in the air. The troops in the US infantry peered forward, taking a collective breath as they see the American flag plastered on the cold, gray metal.

Abarai Renji, another friend of Ichigo, stepped up to the plane to check it out. A couple of troops stepped forward to look out for any surprise attacks, and the others scatter about, keeping their distance to watch their backs.

"Those German bastards shot another plane down," Renji loudly scoffed, taking a tentative step on a large boulder next to the plane. He peeked in the shattered window at the tangled American body. "But this one looks like it's snarled up on something…" His eyes quickly widened. "_Shit!_ We're dead!" Renji shouted, diving off the rock and onto the Earth's thick carpet. He covered his head before the plane immediately exploded in a blast of orange flames.

Ichigo squinted his eyes against the blast of heat before hearing the shouts of Germans float through the air. The infantry cluttered into a circle, guns ready to fire. Suddenly, Germans leaped out from the trees and forest, vigorously shooting at the Americans.

"Ambush!" One soldier alerted the others. The rapid sound of gunshots pierce the air and flying shrapnel whizzed by at lightning speeds.

A German jumped from a high tree branch a few yards away from Ichigo and landed steadily on his feet. Ichigo's rough thumb instinctively pressed down hard on the machine gun's trigger. The machine gun kicked back repeatedly, like a metallic woodpecker hammering his shoulder, and his arms flexed to keep the gun steady enough to aim. In a sift second, the German was lying dead on the ground, four scarlet bullet holes in his chest.

But Ichigo didn't care. He was numb. Numb to the pain, the guilt, the fear. He had seen so much in the war… And this was nothing.

Ichigo used to have to tell himself stories. He'd have to make up imaginary stories in his head. Every time he'd kill someone, he'd think, _Oh, that guy was a rapist. _Or a criminal. Or a druggie… _Anything_ to justify what he had just done. He would re-write the man's entire past in his mind, making the man sound like he would've been better off dead, even though he had no idea. He'd killed a man; one of the few dozens that Ichigo had killed by now, six months or so into the war.

But now it was different. He figured out that it takes too much time to think. _So don't fucking think, _he warned himself once more. How much can happen in a second? Tons. Cities can get bombed, friends can be killed, and tanks can destroy ten-story buildings…_ So don't think. Just do it._

Over Ichigo's shoulder, Renji shot down two Germans from tree stands in the leaves overhead. Sado tussled with a German, both of their guns accidentally tossed to the ground, before the German is finally stabbed in the neck with a pocket knife. He fell to the ground, groaning and bleeding to death. Despite the sounds of the soon-to-be-dead man's moans and the flickering of the orange flames, the clearing was perfectly quiet.

"That was a quick ambush," Ichigo's leader, Captain Yamamoto, commented. The infantry huddled into a group, assessing the damage. Two of their men lay dead along with the eight Germans, lying in various unnatural positions on the ground. The rusty stench of blood began to filter through the air. Renji limped towards the group, and Ichigo placed his arm around his comrade.

"We need to get to Merkstein-Herbach," Captain Yamamoto continued. "There, we will be able to take over Schmidt Factory No. 302, which specializes in making weapons for the German, Japanese, and Italian army."

_"Yes sir!"_ The infantry thundered.

"We will need to split into groups of three," the Captain droned on. "We will surround the factory from every angle, and more US infantrymen will meet us there."

_"Yes sir!"_

Captain Yamamoto went on to list all the groups, and Ichigo fortunately ended with Renji and Sado. Captain Yamamoto tried to pair the men up with others they were most familiar with. This way, the soldiers were able to work better in teams.

"We're heading three degrees to the north. Walk for ten minutes and Merkstein-Herbach should be there. Move out!" Captain Yamamoto shouted. The men dived into the underbrush, boots stomping through the tall grasses as they dispersed.

Ichigo tightly hugged his gun to his chest, crashing through the droopy bushes and ducking under low tree branches. Renji was in front of him and Sado behind. He dug his hand into the small pocket of his camouflaged army uniform and retrieved a dirt-encrusted compass. He held the compass flat on his palm, but the glass cover immediately fogged up in the extreme humidity of the wetland. He swiped his thumb over the glass, clearing it up. He squinted at the shaky, red needle before the glass was cloudy again.

"Goddamn humidity," Ichigo murmured harshly under his breath.

"Spit on it!" Renji shouted. Taking his advice, Ichigo spat onto the glass cover and wiped his thumb over it. The streaks of his saliva kept the glass case clear just long enough to tell which direction they were traveling in.

"A bit to the left," Ichigo read out loud.

They stomped through the forest for about ten minutes, each of them counting to sixty multiple times in their head to keep track. Trees began to disappear, and the humidity drastically decreased. When buildings started to appear, Renji announced, "Merkstein-Herbach. We made it."

Buildings started to rise up around them as the three men stuck to the alleys and side-roads. The blank windows seemed ominous and threatening, though nobody seemed to be watching them. The city seemed deserted, but it wasn't, because their mission was to invade a building that was inhabited by the enemy.

Every other store had shattered windows and merchandise spilling out into the streets. Bright red swastikas were crudely painted on the wooden shop doors. The paint had dripped from the swastika in haggard lines that looked like dripping blood, like it had been painted in a frantic rush.

"Anti-Semitism at it's finest," Renji whispered under his breath as their heavy boots crunch over shards of broken glass lying in the street. Before Ichigo had a chance to ask, Renji explained. "Nazi mobs planted coordinated attacks on Jewish homes and stores owned by Jews a couple of years ago." He motioned towards the ransacked, abandoned shop windows. "It was mainly led by the SS and Hitler Youth, but many Germans just joined it. By how deserted this city is, they must have evacuated everyone out."

Ichigo remained silent. They continued along the outskirts of town until they came upon a large pile of burnt rubble. It spanned about the length of one of the apartment buildings around it, even though those buildings looked untouched. So it couldn't have possibly been a bombing of the city. _It was probably a Jewish building before it was burned down_, Ichigo thought,_ A temple, maybe?_

Moments later, Renji halted ahead of Ichigo. The three of them stopped as Renji pointed out the sign that read "Schmidt Factory No. 302" on the corner of the huge building. Ichigo crouched behind a trash can in an alley as Sado and Renji hid near him. As Ichigo loaded bullets into his machine gun, he heard a voice. He quickly glanced up to see Renji.

Renji held up a finger, pointed it at himself, then pointed it at Ichigo. Ichigo sighed and nodded, knowing Renji wanted to trade guns with him, as he lifted his gun. The two tossed their guns across the alleyway to each other. Ichigo caught his gun with one hand and smirked.

"Ichigo, I need you to climb up that fire escape to the top floor and snipe across the street into the Schmidt Factory. You're the only one with the steady enough hands to do it," Renji ordered. Ichigo's smirk faded away. He was given the job of a sniper.

Ichigo took his Scoped m1903 Springfield rifle and slung the strap over his shoulder. He reached up and pulled himself onto the fire escape, slowly climbing up the creaky steps. Every time he would pass a window, he held his breath and waited anxiously for the curtain to snap aside and a Nazi to shoot him. Fortunately, it never happened.

One flight of stairs below the top level, Ichigo's breath caught in his throat as he noticed the curtains were gone on the windows. He noticed the singed edges and how they were burned half-off. He carefully stepped forward and peered into the only dusty window that wasn't broken.

(Dead bodies. Everywhere.)

There was nothing else, so Ichigo continued. At the very top of the stairs, he gently set the sniper gun on the floor of the fire escape. His fingers gripped the bottom of the shattered window and slowly slid it up, not daring to try to crawl through the broken window and most likely cut himself on the glass. When it makes a loud squeaking noise, he slammed it up quickly and grabbed the gun. Pointing the gun ahead of him, he climbed into the room and scoped it out.

The room looked like an office. There was a wooden desk and a metal filing cabinet and a large bookcase. Papers were littered over the floor, singed all around the corners, probably from lit Molotov cocktails. After scanning the room, he went into the next room, his boots crunching over the glass scattered across the floor.

This room was a kitchen, with a small ice box and a metal sink and a wood stove and multiple wood cabinets. A soapy bin of wet clothes was abandoned in a corner, and a wringer stood beside it.

He stepped into the next room in the small apartment, a bedroom. There were two wide cots and a wooden dresser and a small desk. Ichigo opened a door that was, strangely, closed and walked into the other bedroom.

He carefully trudged around the room. There was a cot, smaller than the one in the previous bedroom. A fringed rug covered the dusty, wooden floor, and glass was sprayed everywhere. A brick was amid the glass shards, probably thrown through the window by the Nazis. There was also a dresser, a desk, and a mirror smeared with ash nailed to the wall.

Ichigo knelt in front of the window and propped the nose of the gun on the windowsill. The black curtain around the shattered window was halfway burned off. He inserted a few cartridges of bullets into the gun and peered into the scope, looking into the windows of the Schmidt Factory across the street. With the scope, he could see the silhouettes of Germans across the street in between the crosshairs.

Suddenly, Ichigo heard something slide across the wooden floor, a sound like glass scraping across hardwood. He turned his gaze away from the scope, away from the windows across the street, and he slowly turned around to face the empty room.

(He had a feeling

that he wasn't alone.)

**...**

_**October 4th, 1944; 10:32 p.m.**_

Inoue Orihime laid on her small, white cot with the freshly washed covers pulled over her shoulders. It was late at night, but she couldn't sleep. The black blinds of her window were pulled tight; not a hint of light would leak out and give away to the Nazis scouting for any hidden Jews.

Orihime and Sora, her brother, lived with a German named Yvonne Stein, a coworker and friend of her parents. The two were under her roof for about a year after the departure of their parents in late 1943. Since then, Yvonne swore to her parents to keep the two safe and away from the Nazis.

The two were never allowed to leave the apartment. If anyone came over, they were to be identified as Yvonne's cousins. Sora slept in Yvonne's room while Orihime was in a small room to herself, hidden behind their bedroom.

The Nazis were worsening day after day, checking anyone's home if they were suspicious of holding Jews. In result, Orihime was forced to cover her windows with black blinds. She was forbidden to light a candle during the night and she was to report to bed at six. While Yvonne was away for work, they were to not make a hint of noise, like flushing the toilet.

A sudden, creaking sound came from the kitchen. The sound of Yvonne twisting the handle on the wooden wringer to dry their clothes. A tiny candle was flickering, and the light spilled underneath Orihime's door.

Eventually, the candle is blown out and the acrid scent of smoke filled the air. The springs of Yvonne's cot squeak as she settled into it for the night. Soon, Orihime fell into a fitful sleep. She awakened nearly three times throughout the night. Nightmares have come to her every night. The dreams are often about the war, or concentration camps, or the like. She knew it was only a matter of time…

(But when?)

**…**

_**October 5th, 1944; 9:45 a.m.**_

Orihime snapped from her dreaming state to the sound of smashing glass. She jolted awake, sitting in her bed, drenched in a cold sweat. _My dreams are becoming more and more realistic with each passing night,_ she thought dreadfully. Orihime hopelessly crawled out of bed and trudged towards the door to the empty bedroom.

She had slept in… again.

The sound of smashing glass is closer. Much closer. As in, right downstairs a few floors. Orihime froze in her tracks, terrified, pausing to listen to what was going on. Another smash of glass. Screaming. The sounds of Nazis jolted her out of her temporary paralysis. She sprinted into the kitchen, hands frantically grasping the door frame.

"What's going on?" Orihime asked in fear, a quivering shake in her voice. Yvonne and her brother peeked outside of the black curtain at the scenario playing out on the street below. The clock loudly ticked above their heads, shifting the time to 9:46 in the morning.

Yvonne turned towards Orihime with frantic terror in her eyes. "The Nazis. They've found more Jews in our apartment."

Suddenly, Orihime's eyes widened. Something that she had only imagined in her dreams was now a reality. Before she could react to the traumatizing news, there was a loud pounding against the door, along with German shouts and commands. The three quickly snapped their heads around, trembling in fear.

"Orihime, go to your room and stay hidden!" Sora demanded his younger sister, a stern look plastered on his face.

"And what of you two?" Orihime replied weakly, shrinking back into her bedroom.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

"Now!" Sora shouted, ignoring Orhime's question, pointing towards the bedroom door.

With worry in her eyes, Orihime sprinted back to her room. She slammed the heavy, wooden door shut and pressed her small form against it. Orihime slid her back down the door until she was in a sitting position and cupped her hand against it, connecting them to her left ear to hear what was going on.

A loud, sudden thump suddenly cut through the walls as vibrations emanated from the ground, possibly from the Nazis' heavy boots. Orihime pressed her head closer to the door to hear what the Nazis were shouting. Her eyes widened when she heard screams and cries come from Yvonne and Sora. Another wave of vibrations came from the floor and there was loud slam.

(Silence.)

After a moment of hearing nothing but the shouts and the screams and the cries from outside, Orihime came to a depressing realization as her mind replayed the scenario in her head over and over and _over _again.

"Yvonne, Sora...," she whispered under her breath, the ends of her mouth began to quiver.

(... are gone.)

Tears leaked from her soft, smoky eyes. They streamed down her face as terse hiccups escaped her mouth.

She crawled across the room onto the thin, hand-woven rug her mother had made her for her eighth birthday. It was formerly a blanket, but it was so thick that it smothered her in her sleep; thus, earning its place on the floor as a rug. There was no strength left to climb into her bed, so she curled up into a quaking ball on the floor. Her tear-filled eyes fluttered closed, and she clenched her jaw to reduce the quivering sobs.

Unexpectedly, something crashed through her window, spraying her body with glass. Her eyes flew open, which was a mistake. Her room was full of thick smoke that burned her eyes. Something in her apartment building was on fire, possibly the rooms below her, and the smoke was just floating up. Orihime squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed the heels of her hands on her eyes. No matter how hard she pressed her eyeballs back into her eye sockets, the stinging wouldn't go away. Irritated tears streamed down her cheeks until the burning disappeared.

Orihime flattened herself on the floor and lifted her eyes open. There was a foot of air near the ground that was clear as day, but an ominous cloud of smoke hovered above her. She glanced upwards to her window, which was shattered and had glinting shards of glass edging all around the window frame, looking like jagged shark teeth. Behind her, a rust-colored brick laid amid shards of glass on the floor.

Suddenly, another explosion of shattering glass resounded from behind her. Orihime's body stung with burns from something that had flown through the window and exploded on the floor. She muffled a scream as she quickly sat up, eyes stinging in the smoke, and brushed the burning embers off her legs and arms in a frenzy. She glanced around to see half of her room in flames. The curtains, her bed, the rug.

Orihime stood up and dashed to the window. She grabbed fistfuls of the black curtains and shook them in the air until the smoldering goes out. Afterwards, she collapsed on the ground and ran her hands back and forth over her rug, smothering the burning embers that were glowing a bright, orange color. The embers on her bed seared holes through her white sheets until Orihime put them out with the glass of water on her bedside table.

As she stood up, taking a deep breath of smoky air, her head swarmed with dizziness. Orihime sat on the ground and placed her head between her knees until the light-headedness disappeared. When she shifted her eyes upwards, there was a glass bottle cracked in half on the floor. She leaned over, picked up both halves, and tried to piece them together to read the label. It was an old glass soda bottle, but the brand name had been scratched out and a new name had been written over it: Molotov. As in, Molotov cocktail. _Clever,_ Orihime thought dryly.

She took a whiff of the inside of the bottle and immediately wrinkled her nose. It smelled like burnt gasoline, which was not a good smell at all. A scorched wick was curled up at the bottom of the bottle. As Orihime laid the cracked Molotov back on the ground, she rested her forehead against her mattress. How did her life become so…_ terrible_? Where did things go wrong? How could people be so… _cruel_?

Orihime was suddenly overwhelmed with an extreme urge to go to sleep. She looked at her bed, which had ash and dust all over the once-clean sheets. She took her pillow, ripped off the filthy pillowcase, and crawled under the bed where there was less rubble. Glass shards sliced a few cuts into her legs, but other than that, she was hardly hurt from the ordeal.

The second she laid her head on the pillow, she squeezed her eyes shut and felt the tremors around her before falling into deep slumber.

(And the nightmare

began.)

**...**

_**October 5th, 1944; 1:13 p.m.**_

Orihime woke up to feel the tremors. Her heart began beating quickly, but she realized the tremors were hardly loud enough to be from bombs. Instead, the vibrations in the ground were slow and repetitive, like footsteps. She raised her head off the pillow to listen. Yes, they were most definitely footsteps. And they were in Yvonne's and her brother's closet.

_What day is it? _The thought entered her head. There was barely any noise from outside, so it must had been the next day… But she had no way to check the time from under her bed. There was a little pain in her stomach as well, so it must have been a while since she's eaten.

Eventually, her bedroom door opened and a pair of gray boots appear in the doorway. In response, Orihime curled into a fearful ball, shrinking against the wall underneath her bed. The boots paused, as if they knew she was there. A fearful thought struck her: _Was the mysterious person a Nazi? _Terror seized her heart and her heart began beating quicker and quicker and _quicker_. She clutched her chest, silently begging herself to calm down. _Could he hear my heartbeat? _She thought, even though it was an absurd thought and she knew it.

The gray boots slowly crept along her floor, crunching glass shards under his weight. The person knelt on its knees by her window, and Orihime heard the metallic click of bullets being loaded into a gun. She gulped, but slowly inches toward the edge of the bed. _Who is it?_ From what she could see, the person has green camouflaged pants smeared with dirt and dust.

There was a red, white, and blue American flag on the person's camouflaged shoulder. Orihime slid a bit farther from her hideout under the bed and poked her head out into the open. She noticed an army-green helmet over thick, bright orange hair. The man's face was leaning over the gun, peering into a scope into the Schmidt Factory across the street. He had a sharp jaw line, and light stubble shadowing his cheeks. Orihime began to shift her body to crawl back to her pillow that was pressed against the wall under her bed, but glass got caught in her nightgown and caused a loud scraping sound against the wood floor. She heard the man turn around, and she froze where she was.

"Hello? Who's there?" The man demanded. His voice sounded hard and callous. Orihime bit her lip. She knew a bit of English, but hardly any. But should she speak out? The man might kill her, interpreting her as a Nazi instead of a Jew.

Suddenly, the man reached under the bed and his hand grazed her shoulder. Orihime whimpered in surprise as she quickly backed towards the wall. She grabbed her pillow and held it in front of her ample chest like a shield. The man set his gun on the ground and it just so happened to point right at her face. He knelt on the ground, and his face appeared under her bed. When his hard, dark brown eyes made contact with her wide, stormy-like orbs, her heart immediately stopped. Not knowing what to say to make him spare her life, she squeaked something inaudible under her breath.

("H-Hello.")


	2. can you hear me now?

**note;** Before you read this chapter, make sure to scan through the previous one. I've decided to make the story as accurate as possible and revised it, so majority of the historical inaccuracies have been fixed. The time and setting have been adjusted, as well as the plot towards the ending. I know re-reading is a lot to ask from you guys, and it's my fault for writing a historical story without doing a little research. Gomennasai! Forgive me?

(Big thanks to _Castle Anthrax_,_ sunflowspot_, and _Magdelana88_ for pointing out the inaccuracies. *hands out cyber cookies* If there are more, please don't hesitate to tell me.)

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**love, or something**  
can you hear me now?

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_**October 5th, 1944; 1:17 p.m.**_

Puzzled, Ichigo extended his arm under the bed, hoping the noise was caused by a harmless animal. As he reached farther, his hand connected with clothing-like fabric, and he swore he felt hair brush against his skin as well. To his surprise, the mysterious object quickly moved away from his touch. Ichigo placed his gun on the ground in front of the bed, where the noise came from, got down on fours, and carefully peered under the bed. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he caught a glimpse of a dark figure pressed against the wall, far away as possible from him.

(It was a girl.)

A teenage girl, about his age, was under the bed. How had he not seen that when he first came into the room? What if she had been an armed Nazi instead?_ I just have to be more careful_, Ichigo warned himself.

"H-Hello," the girl murmured in a shaky voice, thick with a German accent. But judging by her auburn, waist-length hair and her wide, gray eyes, she was definitely _not_ a German. Well, she was obviously a German, just not a "perfect" German according to Hitler. The regulations Hitler enforced on the Germans to create a "perfect society" were to have bright, blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, and pale, white skin.

Ichigo stood up, out of view from the window, with his gun in one hand. He emitted a long, audible sigh before glancing at the shadow on the floor the bed was casting.

"Come out," Ichigo commanded the girl. He knew she could hear him, he just hoped she could understand him. A minute passed, and Ichigo grew weary. He was supposed to be killing off Nazis in the Schmidt Factory across the street. How were his infantrymen doing without his help?

"Pardon?" He heard a tentative voice ask from under the bed.

_Good_, Ichigo thought. _At least she knows a few simple English words_. He crouched on the floor and looked at her once more. He curled and straightened his index finger towards himself, motioning for her to crawl out. Ichigo stood up and waited.

A few rustling sounds emanated from the bed. He saw a head, bright and full of hair, stick out. She slowly stood up, and she meekly looked at Ichigo as if for further instruction.

Her white cotton nightgown was no longer white; it was tinted with dust, blood, and charcoal ash. A yellow Star of David was sewn onto the breast of her nightgown. Her porcelain skin was hidden under layers of dust from being under her bed. There were a few burn marks on her hands and visible dirt underneath her clipped fingernails. On her elbows and knees, there were scratches with hints of dried blood around them. Her eyes were frozen in a state of shock, fear, and depression.

Despite the flaw-filled features, Ichigo could see that she actually looked pretty underneath all the filth. Her eyes were huge, and if they weren't so red-rimmed, they'd probably be a dazzling, deep gray. Her hair was a bit tangled, but it was shiny and orange, like his. Even though she wore a conservative nightgown down to her mid-thighs, the fabric clung to her skin in a few places because of sweat, and he could tell she had a great figure.

He pointed at her bed and told her to sit. She tentatively sat on the edge of her mattress, looking at Ichigo for affirmation that she translated his command correctly. He nodded at her and commanded her to wait. He bit his tongue, silently punishing himself for talking to her like a dog.

Once again, Ichigo crouched in front of the open window and propped the gun up on the windowsill. He looked over his shoulder and nodded at the girl once more, who was now curled up in a ball in the corner of the mattress, far away as possible from him. He shrugged to himself and peered into the scope. _Time to get back to business._

Below, he could see Sado and Renji in the alley, hiding behind the trash bins. Across the street, in the alleys on both sides of the Schmidt Factory, were two large group of American soldiers. Ichigo peered through the scope at the front door, where they would begin their attack. There were two guards at the door, casually talking and smoking cigarettes.

Ichigo forced his mind to clear all thoughts. He relaxed his muscles, except for his arms, which were steadying the gun on the windowsill. He shut one eye and focused the other on the scope, aligning one guard's head right in between the crosshairs. Finally, when his body became as steady as it possible, Ichigo pulled the trigger.

The bullet sliced through the air, drilling right into the guard's skull. The guard limply fell to the ground, his gun clattering down the front steps. The cigarette in his partner's lips fell to the ground in shock. Then, the guard frantically lifted his gun to the sky, searching for the sniper before he could get him next.

But Ichigo was too quick. He swiveled the gun, quickly aligned the crosshairs on the guard's chest, and pulled the trigger. The second guard fell on top of the first guard, and all was silent. Silent, but frantic. In the windows of the Schmidt building, Nazis were going crazy. The gunshots alarmed them.

In the corner of his eye, Ichigo saw the girl trembling. He ignored her and opened his eyes, watching two groups of his comrade from either side of the warehouse sneak out of the alley and up to the front door. A handful of soldiers shoved themselves towards the locked door and managed to crack it open. There were five or so Nazis waiting behind the door, but they were quickly mowed down by rapid machine gun fire from the Allies who advanced further into the building.

Ichigo raised his gaze through the scope to the higher floors of the Schmidt Factory and twisted the scope, zooming in even more. He could see every detail of a warehouse room through one window. There were water stains on the ceiling, rusty nails laying on wooden tables, and sawdust scattered across the floor. It fascinated him. But it was hard to focus on one of the many Nazis running back and forth across the window.

Momentarily, a Nazi screeched to a halt next to a nearby telephone on the wall. He wore a red swastika on his shoulder and had a black cap on his head. From the many pins and patches on his chest, Ichigo guessed he was a general. He quickly lined up the crosshairs on the general's chest, and shot him right as he was dialing a number into the spin dial. The general collapsed on the ground, lifeless.

Immediately after Ichigo fired the shot, a bullet chipped off the brick on the outside of the apartment building, narrowly missing the window Ichigo was hiding in. He swore silently and moved to the side of the window. He clicked a few more bullet cartridges in the gun for further use. He lowered to a crouch and peered over the windowsill. He hadn't even aimed his gun before a flash signaled from above and a bullet whizzed over his head.

Ichigo immediately dropped to the ground, breathing heavily from the close encounter. He peered at the girl in the corner of his eye who was safely away from the window. She was staring at the bullet which had lodged into the heavy wooden dresser as her entire body trembled in fear. Ichigo turned back towards his gun and raised his eyes to the window above him. He had seen the flash of the gun from the enemy sniper. It came from high on the opposite side of the street, most likely the roof of the Schmidt Factory.

Ichigo stood up and flattened himself against the wall next to the window. He peered out between the half-destroyed curtain and the edge of the window. He gripped his gun in his clammy hands and prepared to jump out to shoot the sniper. Before he got the chance, there was another flash, and a lightning bolt of pain shot through Ichigo's shoulder.

The girl released a sudden, strangled scream as she instinctively clamped a hand over her mouth. Ichigo knelt on the ground, gritting his teeth and holding his hand to his left shoulder. His hand felt the warm blood seep through his uniform, and he checked the back of his shoulder.

There was an exit wound there, where the bullet had completely shot through his body. That would be easy to repair since they didn't have to remove the bullet. Although, a crashing wave of light-headedness suddenly hit him, but he struggled to keep both eyes open. Nazis would _not_ find him wounded in a Jew's home.

Ichigo had an overwhelming urge to run, leave the apartment, and return to his infantry. He had to escape. But the only way out of the room was back through the door, which was in perfect view of the sniper. The only way out of there was to kill the enemy sniper.

Suddenly, he thought of a plan.

Ichigo removed his helmet and balanced it on the edge of his gun. He placed it under the window and held it up so it was in view. The helmet was struck by another bullet in a swift second. He tilted the nozzle of the gun so that the helmet fell through the window and clattered to the street below, feigning his death. He quickly crawled to his feet and peered up at the roof of the Schmidt Factory.

The enemy sniper watched the helmet fall, thinking he killed the sniper. The sniper was now standing tall, his head clearly silhouetted against the gray sky. Ichigo smirked and lifted his gun to his enemy sniper. His hand trembled in eagerness, and he pressed his lips together. Ichigo took a deep breath through his nose and fired.

His enemy was hit.

The sniper stumbled a few steps in the dance of death, dropping his gun in the process. He fell forward, as if in slow-motion, and the enemy sniper tripped on the short wall surrounding the roof of the warehouse. He fell forward and through the air before striking the ground face-down with a dull thud. A small pool of blood began to trickle around him.

Ichigo smirked at his success before turning towards the girl.

"Stand up," Ichigo commanded, motioning for her to stand. She stood. "Collect anything you want to bring. I can take you back to our camp. Then, we'll figure out what to do with you." He knew that if the girl was left in her apartment, Nazis would find her and ship her off to a concentration camp. And Ichigo just wouldn't be able to live with himself if he knew she died because he didn't help.

In response to his lengthy instructions, the girl stared at him blankly. Ichigo sighed, knowing he hadn't talked simply enough for her to understand. But his patience was wearing thin and his shoulder began hurt like a bitch. In addition, the scent of his own blood seeping through his uniform was making him uncomfortable. "Get your clothes. Your… diary. Valuables. Anything you want to take with you," Ichigo explained, waving a hand in the air.

The girl blinked at him and turned to her dresser. She quickly took out a pillowcase-sized bag and began to stuff a variety of clothes into it. After she finished, she slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and slipped a pair brown, leather shoes onto her feet. She hurried over to her desk and quickly picked up three small books: one with an American flag on it, one with a silver spiral edge, and the other with gold script on the cover.

"What's that?" Ichigo asked, plucking the book with the American flag on it out of her hand. She didn't protest. He turned it over in his hands, scanning the worn black cover. He flipped it open and glanced at a few pages. "Is this a German-to-English dictionary?" The girl nodded and Ichigo handed the book back to her. She took it and held it against her chest along with the other book. "What are the other books?"

The girl held out the book with the gold script, showing him the cover before cradling the book once again. She hid the third book behind the other two. "The Torah," she answered. Ichigo caught a glimpse of the Star of David on the spine of the book.

"Is that the Jewish Bible? Like the Old Testament?"

"The Torah."

"Uh… sure," Ichigo replied, rolling his eyes. It was frustrating to try to communicate with somebody who knew little English. "Follow me." He motioned with his hand for the girl to follow.

He led the way through the other bedroom, the kitchen, and the office. He crossed the strap of his gun across his torso and crawled through the window, careful of his injured shoulder. Once he was on the fire escape, Ichigo offered his good hand to the girl. She took it and carefully climbed through the window. She blushed as the wind from outside ruffled her nightgown.

They walked down the fire escape; Ichigo still kept an eye out for any Nazis that possibly hid in the shadows. At the bottom of the fire escape, he climbed down the ladder one-handed so he wouldn't strain his injured arm. His vision was began to get fuzzy, probably from the high amount of blood loss. Ichigo ignored the fuzziness, blinked a few times, and waited as the girl climbed down the fire escape ladder. She held the edges of her nightgown so it wouldn't blow up with the wind as she leaped on the concrete ground next to Ichigo.

He snuck along the alley and released a sigh of relief when Sado and Renji came into view. He placed his hand on Renji's shoulder and blurted in exhaustion, "Have I never been so glad to see you guys."

Renji snapped his head around and his eyes instantly locked onto his friend's shoulder. The blood seeped through Ichigo's uniform and dripped onto the ground. Ichigo's feet suddenly shifted beneath him as he placed his hand against the brick wall of the alley to keep his balance.

"What?" Ichigo asked, cocking an eyebrow at his comrade. His vision began to blur. Renji shouted something, but Ichigo was unable to hear him. "What?" Ichigo repeated, his vision became worse as he stumbled onto the ground.

_"Ichigo..."_

_"Ichigo!"_

Ichigo's hearing finally came back to him, and he heard his comrades shout his name while the Jewish girl gasped. His shoulder wound had finally gone numb. But he did feel a steady throbbing that matched the beat of his heart, as his veins pumped drop after drop of valuable blood out of his body. Ichigo stared unthinkingly up at the ash-gray sky as everything suddenly turned black.

* * *

**a/n;**

A week of waiting isn't so bad, ne?

Thank you for the feedback: _Magdelana88, sunflowspot, from here to the moon, ani-chan72, Child of the Ashes, Renee Tanaka, The Dessa, Reira, RainingLight1, just a reader, Somerlia, supremekikay22_, and _Castle Anthrax_. Love you guys and the support.

-Nadeau


	3. bleeding memories, soaking red

**note;** Ahem. I would love to take this time to give a very special thanks to _Castle Anthrax_ for becoming the official beta of this story (and for also making it a billion times better and accurate). Boo to the yah, baby. :)

* * *

**love, or something**  
bleeding memories, soaking red

* * *

_**October 5th, 1944; 1:54 p.m.**_

She was _terrified._

As she gasped, her hands instinctively clutched onto her mouth. Her eyes filled with terror as she watched the American soldier collapse on the ground in the alley. She hugged her German-to-English Dictionary, her father's doctoring notes, and the Torah to her stomach tightly. Two other soldiers, also American, by the looks of the US flags on their shoulders, hovered over the fallen soldier, trying their best to keep him awake.

(Over and over, they shouted, "Ichigo! Ichigo!")

Orihime opened her German-to-English Dictionary and quickly looked up the word 'Ichigo.' Maybe it was the soldier's name, or an English word that meant 'help.' She flipped to the 'I' section of her dictionary, but found nothing. Her gray orbs darted between the other soldiers and repeated them. "Ichigo?" She asked, "I-Ichigo?"

The two soldiers snapped their heads around, and their eyes instantly land on her, shocked into silence. It was as if they hadn't noticed her presence until now.

"Who are you?" One soldier questioned.

"I-Inoue Orihime," she answered. The two soldiers look at each other, and then back at her. The other soldier, much taller and more muscular, stepped forward and began speaking in German. She couldn't help it; Orihime smiled in relief of having someone else speak the same language as her.

"Hallo, Frau Inoue. Wie sie wissen Herr Kurosaki?" The soldier asked. _Hello, Miss Inoue. How do you know Mr. Kurosaki?_ The younger soldier looked up at his partner in bewilderment, as he began to pry off the unconscious soldier's uniform to analyze his wound.

"Herr Kurosaki? Ist dass er?" Orihime replied, glancing at the sniper soldier on the ground. _Mr. Kurosaki? Is that him? _

"Ja. Aber er geht durch Ichigo," the soldier confirmed. _Yes. But he goes by Ichigo._ Orihime slowly nodded as she glanced at the fallen soldier's bare chest, since the soldier had succeeded in removing the soldier's shirt. His scarlet bullet wound was near a prominent shoulder muscle, just above his collarbone. Dried blood was splattered against one pectoral muscle, and a small trickle of fresh blood ran out of the bullet wound. "Sind sie ein Jude?" _Are you a Jew?_

Orihime nodded her head profusely and held out her Torah as proof. "Wird er gesunden?" She asked, nervously biting her lip. _Will he be okay?_ Truthfully, she was worried about him. Even though she and Ichigo didn't know each other, let alone even had a complete conversation, he had found her in her room. He took her to the Americans, who would save her from the Nazis, who would have planned on killing her or make her suffer in a concentration camp. And for that, she was grateful.

"Die kugel komplett schuss durch seine schulter wir werden also keine sorgen uber chirurgie zum entfernen der bullet," the soldier explained. _The bullet completely shot through his shoulder, so we won't have to worry about surgery to remove the bullet. _

"Das ist gut," Orihime replied. _That's good._ "Durch die art und weise was ist ihre namens?" She asked. _By the way, what's your name?_

"Yasutora Sado," the soldier answered. "Nun, bitte folgen Sie uns. Wir müssen uns Ichigo zu unserem Lager, so erhalten wir können ihm helfen." _Now, please follow us. We have to get Ichigo to our camp so we can get help._

Orihime nodded in comprehension and quickly moved out of the way, allowng for the two Americans to lift Ichigo up. Together, they managed to carry him away from the Schmidt Factory No. 302 across the street, out of sight from the Nazis.

"Mein Vater war Arzt, und er lehrte mich ein wenig über Schussverletzung. Ich erinnere mich nur ein bisschen, aber vielleicht kann ich helfen…?" Orihime asked.. _My father was a doctor, and he taught me a bit about bullet wounds. I only remember a little, but perhaps I could help…?_

Sado nodded. "Bitte," he begged, "Mein Freund braucht alle Hilfe die er bekommen kann." _Please. My friend needs all the help he can get._

Orihime followed them to a large, green truck that transported the Americans into Germany for the attack. Sado and the other American loaded Ichigo onto the back platform, then Sado conversed with the other American, managing to get him to drive.

"Zuerst müssen wir den Bereich um die Wunde zu reinigen. Haben Sie Wasser? Und einige Tuch?" Orihime asked, removing the rest of Ichigo's shirt to get it out of the way. _First we have to clean the area around the wound. Do you have any water? And some cloth?_

Sado handed Orihime his half-full canteen and scrambled around to look for cloth. "Wir haben kein Tuch," he finally reported. _We have no cloth._

"Es ist in Ordnung, kann ich nur Wasser verwenden," Orihime replied, unscrewing the cap on Sado's canteen. _It's fine, I can just use water._ She carefully poured water across Ichigo's torso, over the areas where blood has dried onto him. Her hands glided over his bare skin, rubbing away the dried blood, until the only blood remaining is slowly trickling from his shoulder wound. "Kann ich deine Socken?" Orihime questioned. _Can I have your sock?_

Sado hesitantly nodded and quickly unlaced one boot. He peeled off his sock and handed it over. Orihime tore the sock in half and rolled them up. Carefully, she began stuffing the cloth into Ichigo's wound, resulting for it to stop the bleeding.

Immediately, Ichigo began to stir as he start to regain consciousness. His shoulder muscle flinched, and Orihime held down one of his arms to try to. When she failed to keep the injured soldier still, Sado came to her help and held Ichigo's other arm down.

Soon, Ichigo emitted a long, low moan. His eyes flew open and he groaned under his breath, "Shit." His eyes land on Sado, then his position in the truck, and finally Orihime's hand pressing Sado's sock into his shoulder wound. The white sock was now stained completely red. "You a doctor or something?"

Puzzled, Orihime shrugged and glanced nervously at Sado for help, resulting in him translating and explaining the situation, since Ichigo clearly didn't recognize her from her apartment.

Ichigo's body began to quiver in pain, and Orihime watched anxiously. He clenched his teeth together, his hands balled into tight fists, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Suddenly, the truck screeched to a halt, and Orihime quickly grabbed onto the seat to avoid flying out of the truck. She also held her hand on Ichigo's chest, though, to keep him from moving too much. Snapping his eyes from her touch, Ichigo looked up at her...

(... and recognition flooded his mind.)

**...**

**_October 5th, 1944; 2:40 p.m._**

Now he remembered her.

The factory, the abandoned apartment, the distorted room, the stealthy sniper, the scarlet bullet, his bleeding shoulder, and the _trembling girl_; all of these broken images and memories flooded his mind.

His cluttered thoughts were interrupted as Renji climbed out from the driver's seat to help Sado carry Ichigo off the bed of the truck.

"Medic!" Renji yelled from the top of his lungs towards the green medical tent which wielding a bright, red hospital cross over the tent flap.

Orihime cautiously climbed out of the truck after them and looked around to examine her surroundings. The camp was made up of big, green tents, and a few crudely made shacks. She guessed one of the larger shacks was the mess hall, since it contained a few picnic tables sitting outside. The smaller shack next to it was probably the bathrooms, and the other tents were most likely the sleeping quarters, hospital, etc. She quickly followed them into the hospital tent.

Inside, there were dozens of crippled, young men with varying levels of injuries. Some had broken legs or arms, or even amputated limbs, while others had burns or bullet wounds. Ichigo was lying on a white cot with two nurses surveying his wounds. Renji and Sado were standing by nervously, speaking softly to each other.

Orihime walked up to Sado and asked, "What do I do?" She figured it would be best to speak as much English as possible in the camp. Not that she would fool anybody, since she still had a thick, German accent.

"Eh," Sado blinked at her. "Follow me. Ich werde Sie auf die allgemeine Diskussion zu sehen, was sollten wir mit dir zu tun." _I'll have you talk to the general to see what we should do with you._

Orihime bit her lip and followed Sado and Renji out of the hospital tent, leaving Ichigo with the two nurses.

Renji led the group to a large tent and pulled back the tent flap. Orihime walked in, followed by Sado. Inside, the tent was split into three areas, like rooms. The first room was more of a lobby, with several chairs and even a secretary sitting at a desk. The other two rooms were probably the general's office and his bedroom.

"Eh, we'd like to talk to General Aizen?" Renji asked the secretary.

"He's a bit busy," the secretary excused after checking through a thick, manila folder on his desk.

"You don't understand. This is urgent. We found a German girl in her apartment building when we thought the area was clear. She practically saved Private Ichigo's life after he was wounded by an enemy sniper," Renji elaborated frustratingly.

The secretary firmly pressed his lips together and sternly stared at Orihime. "Is that her?" He questioned Renji. Renji nodded in reply. She released an audible breath and admissioned the group in.

Once again, Renji led the group through the tent partition on the right, into a larger room. This room seemed more like an office. There was a desk, where the young general was sitting. Behind the general was a large map of northern Germany with numerous push-pins in the map.

After a moment of silence, Renji cleared his throat. "General Aizen," Renji announced, saluting his commander.

"Ah, Private Renji," the General replied, standing up and saluting. General Aizen's gaze immediately moved towards Orihime. "Who is this?"

"Our troop was invading the Schmidt Factory No. 302 when Ichigo was wounded by an enemy sniper. While he was sniping, he found this German girl in her apartment, even after all other Jews on the block had either been killed or sent to concentration camps. He brought her to us and she nearly saved his life," Renji explained once again.

From then on, Orihime couldn't understand what was being said. Her gaze vigorously reverted back and forth between Renji and the General. But from the looks of things, the General wasn't being convinced. Orihime, who still had her three books and bag with her, held out her father's doctoring notes.

"My father was a doctor!" She loudly interrupted them.

Renji and General Aizen stared at her with bewildered expressions. The General noticed the journal and grabbed it from Orihime's outstretched hand and quickly flipped through it. All of the notes were in German, but there were a few sketches of the body she hoped he would find impressive. General Aizen handed it back with a raised eyebrow for her to continue, to give reasons why he should even think about keeping her.

"I know a bit. I can help," Orihime fumbled to explain, hoping the General could thoroughly understand her.

General Aizen pursed his lips in internal debate, similiar to his secretary's actions. He glanced at Renji who vigorously nodded in support. Finally, the General looked back towards Orihime and stared at her appearance. She was still in her nightgown and was covered in filth.

"Let's go talk to Private Ichigo," he suggested. "But first, you should change into real clothes."

* * *

**a/n;**

Yay, I finished. Sorry it took awhile. Heh. Anywho, thanks for all the support you guys have given me so far. Your feedback means a lot to me. No kidding. :)

-Nadeau


	4. new beginnings

**note; **Updated on 1.28.13.

* * *

**love, or something**  
new beginnings

* * *

_**October 5th, 1944; 3:19 p.m.**_

Ichigo, shirtless and covered in bandages, slowly sat up in the hospital cot. He scowled as he hit the back of his head, preventing his mind to replay the scene in the Jewish apartment building again. Unable to stop his mind and sink in the scene for the twelfth time, he cursed under his breath at how he hadn't seen that bullet coming, and how he hadn't hid himself properly.

If he hadn't been shot, he wouldn't even be in this mess in the first place. In fact, he'd probably be invading the Schmidt Factory No. 302 now with Renji, who left to return the truck and continue the attack. Then, afterwards, he and his troop would be playing a good game of poker, gambling for cigarettes.

To Ichigo's surprise, General Aizen and Sado entered the hospital tent, followed by the German Jew. Ichigo had to salute the general with his left hand, since his right shoulder was the fucked-up one. This realization meant that he wouldn't be doing much with his now-crippled, dominant arm. _Fuck._

"Morning, General," Ichigo greeted.

"Private Kurosaki," General Aizen returned, getting right to the point of his visit. "Tell me what you can about Orihime, here."

"Orihime," Ichigo murmured, glancing at the girl, now that he finally knew her name. She gave him a soft, small smile, and he noticed she was no longer wearing her filthy nightgown. Now, she wore a white dress and hat, like the nurses. Her hands had been washed clean as had her cheeks. The tangles in her hair had been combed out as well.

He cleared his throat before speaking up, "I found her in an apartment building, clearly the only living person left. I was hit by a sniper, and I took her with me down to Private Sado and Private Abarai, who, after the initial attack on the factory, were ordered to bring me here. On the way here, though, I'm pretty sure Miss Inoue saved me from bleeding to death."

General Aizen raised a brow. "I know you are very grateful for what she has done, Private Kurosaki, we all are. But why should be keep her here? We could put our camp in danger by hiding Jews here. And if we hid her, why not others?" The general motioned to Orihime, who had a blank look on her face, once again lost in the conversation.

"She's an orphan," Ichigo sternly pointed out. "Her parents were no where to be found. Where else would she go? Are we going to send her to a concentration camp, where she'd surely be put to death?"

"We can't simply focus all our time on keeping every single Jew in Germany safe. We have a specific mission we have to complete. What about other orphaned Jews? I'm sure there's plenty of them," General Aizen returned, glaring at Ichigo, who glared back.

Orihime, unaware of the high tension around her, piped up, "I know about the Nazi Army! The SS! I can help!"

Surprised, the two turn their gazes to the girl. General Aizen's eyes brightened at this news, and he slowly walked towards her. "How much? How much do you know?" He asked.

Orihime shrugged. "I know… two or three cities… that they're planning to attack. That is good, yes?"

"Yes, yes. Very good. How did you come by this information?" General Aizen asked.

Orihime bit her lip and glanced back and forth between General Aizen and Sado, clearly unaware how to word it. "I, I do not look Jewish. I worked in the office of the Schmidt factory, to help my family. I overheard things that I should not," she answered.

"Very good. Private Sado," Aizen barked.

"Sir," was Sado's quiet answer.

"I want to know what she knows," Aizen ordered.

"I'll do my best, Sir," Sado answered with a smart salute.

"I can help teach her English," Ichigo offered. "I'll mainly be here anyway, recovering, getting rehab, and shit. Then, while she's learning more and more English, she can also help out the medics."

"Alright, I can't be sure on the time frame until the reinforcements arrive, but it was the original intent to be only a few days to a week. It could be longer, and who knows what we could be hit with in that amount of time," Aizen said before he turned to leave. "Of course, Sir," Ichigo replied to the man's retreating back.

Sado gave Ichigo a quick nod before leaving the tent as well. Full of energy, Orihime took a step closer to Ichigo and flashed him a smile, exposing bright, white teeth.

"So I stay?" Orihime asked excitedly. Ichigo couldn't help but smirk at her excitement to stay in the hell-hole of a camp.

"Yeah, for a while, at least until the army arrives. You'll have to help, be a good nurse," he told her.

"Oh, I'm a good nurse," Orihime agreed, showing him the journal she was holding. She tapped on the cover, and Ichigo obediently opened it, flipping through the pages. "My father's doctor notes," she explained.

"I bet you were very proud of him," Ichigo guessed, looking up at her mesmerizing blue , her face clouded with remorse, and she nodded sadly, taking the journal back from him.

A short, brunette nurse walked towards them with a handful of bandages. "Time to change your bandages, Ichigo~," she announced in her high, sing-song voice.

Ichigo made a face. "Not now, Rukia," he complained.

"Yes, _now_," Rukia persisted, her attitude completely shifting, as she placed one hand on her white nurse's uniform-clad hip. "We have to change the bandages on a fresh wound often so it won't get infected. The better it heals, the less often we'll have to change the bandages. So quit your whining."

"How about Orihime does it?" Ichigo suggested, tilting his head towards a shell-shocked girl. "She's a nurse, according to General Aizen, at least as of just a few minutes ago."

Rukia glanced warily back and forth between Orihime and Ichigo. Then she finally handed Orihime the white bandages. "Whatever, Ichigo. I'm not putting up with any of your attitude," she mumbled and walked off to take care of another patient.

"Why did you volunteer me?" Orihime asked, staring at Ichigo with wide eyes.

"You're a nurse now. Show me what you got, Hime," he challenged her. Orihime stopped at the use of her brother's nickname for her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped closer to Ichigo's bedside.

Ichigo smirked and began to sit up for her to change his bandages. In a swift second, Orihime stopped him from sitting up, but at she wasn't quick enough to stop the sharp pain that lanced down his shoulder. He grimaced and grunted with the sudden pain. "Ugh!" Orihime exclaimed, and then began rambling, "Sie müssen nicht sitzen, wenn ich Ihnen helfen, dumm Arsch! Jetzt hast du deine Schulter machte beginnen wieder an zu bluten! Was soll ich mit dir zu tun?"

Puzzled, Ichigo stared at her blankly. She bit her bottom lip and flipped through her German-to-English dictionary to find the English equivalent of what she just said. Then, she translated,_ "Sorry. I said; do not sit up unless I help you. Now you have made your shoulder start bleeding."_

"Oh, sorry."

"No need," Orihime murmured. "Let's change your bandages, yes?"

Orihime took Ichigo's warm hand in her icy, cool one and draped his arm over her shoulders. Then, she placed her other hand on his lower back and she gently pulled him into a sitting position. Ichigo watched Orihime as she gently removed his bandages. Her fingers quickly unwound the bandages and her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. She finally removed the last of the bandages and sucked air through her teeth.

"Is it bad?" Ichigo asked. She quickly threw the bandages away and picked up a clean cloth from a rack. She pressed the cloth to Ichigo's wound. He winced and inhaled sharply.

"Sorry. Ah… No. It will be fine, if you keep the wound closed," Orihime informed slowly, applying a bit more pressure to his shoulder. She glanced up at the soldier. "Where in America are you from?"

"New York City. Do you know where that is?" Ichigo asked.

"Yes. How many years are you?" Orihime continued. He chuckled at how straight-forward she was.

"Why is it funny?" She asked self-consciously, her eyebrows furrowed. Ichigo just smirked and shook his head at her. He placed his large hand on her hip and pulled her ear close to his mouth. Being so close to her, Ichigo could tell that she smelled like a mixture of smoke, the fresh scent of soap, and something strange… vanilla?

"I'm sixteen," he murmured. Orihime pulled away and opened her mouth to say something, but Ichigo pulled her back to where he could whisper, "Don't tell anybody. You have to be eighteen to be in the army, but I snuck in and I don't want to be sent back home."

This time, when Orihime pulled away, she looked at him in confusion. Clearly, she had lost him, so Ichigo picked up Sado's English-to-German dictionary and said, "Es ist ein Geheimnis. Nicht erzähl niemandem." _It's a secret. Don't tell anybody. _Orihime softly giggled, and tried to smother it with her hand.

"What?" He asked.

Orihime just nodded, showing she understood him, and placed a finger to her lips. "I'm sixteen, too," she whispered, then stood up like nothing happened and took the bloody cloth off Ichigo's wound. "But you have… a terrible accent." She began to laugh, and Ichigo smirked in reply.

"At least I'm trying," he replied. Orihime took a handful of gauze and held it on his shoulder. She took his hand and placed it on the gauze. Ichigo carefully held it while she grabbed the bandages.

"Why do you not want to go home?" Orihime asked as she began wrapping the bandages around his torso. As the bandages started to hold the gauze in place, Ichigo released it.

"It's… my parents. I don't like them, and they don't like me," he explained, avoiding Orihime's eyes by watching her hands wrap his shoulder in bandages.

"Why not?"

"Um… Well… Just don't feel sorry for me, okay?" Ichigo asked, still not meeting her eyes.

Orihime's hands dropped from his shoulder and picked up her dictionary. She flipped through it until she found the words she was looking for, and marked the pages with her finger.

"Feel sorry for you?" Orihime asked. She glanced back down at her dictionary and continued, "I'm the one who was separated from my parents, probably never to see again. I hope you haven't been feeling sorry for me lately."

Ichigo grinned ruefully, looking up at her. "Okay, okay. My father's an alcoholic and my mother has a drug addiction. I have a messed up family."

"Why is your family messy?" Orihime asked, tilting her head in confusion, tying the last bandage over Ichigo's shoulder.

"Messed up, not messy. Messed up as in not right, broken," Ichigo explained. Orihime slowly nodded in comprehension, though it was obvious by her look that she didn't understand.

"They cannot be fixed?" she asked innocently.

"No. There's no fixing that much broken," he answered.

"Then, I am messed up too..." she began.

He quirked an eyebrow at her before interrupting, "How are you messed up? You seem… perfect."

"I have to…," Orihime trailed off, checking her dictionary, "Rely on strangers to stay alive. My only possessions are my books and clothes. And my country hates me."

"But that isn't your fault," Ichigo pointed out as Orihime leaned him back down. She shrugged dejectedly and so he continued, trying to change the subject.

("How about that English lesson?")

**...**

**_October 5th, 1944; 4:58 p.m._**

Full of frustration, Orihime made a face, trying to pronounce her 'Th' sounds. But in failure, her words continued to come out like a 'D' sound."Ugh!" She huffed in annoyance, tightly folding her arms.

"Okay, do what I do," Ichigo instructed. He placed his tongue in between his upper and lower teeth and blew out a sharp exhale of breath to make the 'Th' sound. Orihime stuck her tongue between her teeth and blew, but her cheeks just ended up puffing out. Ichigo laughed, and she put her face in her hands.

"I must look silly," she moaned.

"No, no," Ichigo quickly denied. He wrapped a hand around her wrist and gently tugged her hands away from her face. "You're trying."

"I cannot do it! My W's sound like V's, my V's sound like F's, my Th's sound like D's, my D's sound like T's, and my Ah's sound like Eh's! I'm terrible!" Orihime continued.

"But that's only your pronunciation. You know so many words. Your father must have taught you a lot, yeah? He did a good job," Ichigo complimented. He smiled at Orihime, and she shyly smiled back. She opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly, Sado, that second American from the alley, and two other guys from Ichigo's troop bursts into the hospital tent.

"Ichigoooo~!" One of the guys cheered, as he waved around a bent-up deck of cards. Rukia quickly shushed him from across the tent, where she was surveying the sleeping patients. "Wanna go out and play some poker, buddy?"

"I don't know if I can…," Ichigo replied, as he looked towards Orihime for permission.

"Let me check," Orihime answered. She crossed the tent towards Rukia before asking, "Can Ichigo go outside? For poker?"

"Sure. But you'll have to supervise him to be sure he doesn't kill himself," Rukia said, as she rolled her eyes.

"Why would he kill himself?" Orihime asked, shocked.

"It's an expression."

"But your face didn't move…"

"Not a _facial_ expression. Just don't let him out of your sight."

Orihime knew no other meaning for the word 'expression,' so she stood there in bewilderment. But Rukia chuckled and walked away, so Orihime returned to Ichigo and his friends.

"You can play, but I have to go with," she reported. She helped Ichigo sit up. From then on, he was able to do things without her help. But still, Orihime followed. She didn't want him to die if she stopped watching him.

The soldiers took seats on their own helmets or turned-over buckets that were all positioned around a crate. "Sit here, lil' lady," said the same guy, who set his helmet on the ground for her to sit on.

"Thank you. What is your name?" Orihime asked. She gently sat upon the helmet and hoped it didn't tip her into the mud. The American chuckled at her bluntness.

"I'm Asano Keigo, but you can call me Keigo. So, do you know how to play poker?" he asked, shuffling the cards on top of the crate.

"I do not know this poker," she answered.

"We play with cards for money or other stuff, like cigarettes or candy," Keigo answered.

"My father did not like gambling, so I don't know how," she answered shyly.

"Aw, that's too bad. You can watch though, maybe learn as we go then play, right?" Keigo asked as he began dealing out the cards to everyone.

"I have to watch Ichigo. Rukia said he can't kill himself," she answered. A round of chuckles went around.

"Anybody have any cigarettes?" Keigo asked as he took a few wrinkly cigarettes from his pocket and set them in front of his cards.

"Just got some today," Renji said, putting down a whole pack of cigarettes in front of him. Ichigo had a few from his pocket as well, as did Sado and the other soldier.

"Don't look at your cards yet," Renji warned, though they all already knew how to play, "Time for the ante." The soldiers set one or two of their cigarettes, depending on how much they had to begin with, in the center of the crate. Orihime wasn't sure the English terms for poker, but she guessed that was the starting pot of the game. Once everyone had bet, they all looked at their cards. Once everyone had looked, Renji flipped over three 'board' cards, called the 'flop.' They were a nine of hearts, queen of clubs, and ten of spades.

Orihime quickly scanned the soldiers' faces around her. Sado and the other soldier had pretty good poker faces, but Ichigo was rubbing his stubbly jaw with one hand, which showed he was thinking hard to come up with a good grouping of cards. Renji was biting his lip, which was also a bad sign. And Keigo had a good poker face, but his eyes were too shifty and bright.

After the flop was another round of betting. Keigo and Sado put in another cigarette each, but the others left their bets as is. Renji flipped over another card next to the other three that were already out, and that was called a 'turn.' It was a five of clubs. There was a third round of betting after the turn. Renji put out another card, called the 'river,' and now five cards were set out. The fifth 'board' card was a nine of clubs.

Finally, they all flipped their cards over to see who got the best hand. Renji won with a full house. Orihime caught Ichigo's eyes from across the crate and he smirked at her, chuckling a bit. She smiled shyly and glanced down, into her lap.

Orihime watched the soldiers play several more games picking up on the rules. Renji loaned her a few cigarettes when she decided to join in on a couple of hands. Every now and then more soldiers would stop by to join in on a new game and gamble their own cigarettes, hoping to win a few before quitting.

By the end of their games, though, the sun was starting to set and a bugle called from somewhere in the camp. The bugle player, whoever it was, started playing a melody that echoed through the camp. All of a sudden, the soldiers around Orihime stood up and started singing. She looked around the camp to try to decipher what was going on, and she saw soldiers saluting or putting their hands on their heart all around the camp; in the tents, out in the courtyard, everywhere. The air was filled with the voice of the men.

"From the Halls of Montezuma, to the Shores of Tripoli; we fight our country's battles in the air, on land, and sea; first to fight for right and freedom and to keep our honor clean; we are proud to claim the title of UNITED STATES MARINES," the men sang with delight. Orihime heard 'United States' out of the lyrics, and she assumed it was an Army song.

The soldiers continued, "Our flag's unfurled to every breeze, from dawn to setting sun; We have fought in every clime and place where we could take a gun; In the snow of far off northern lands and in sunny tropic scenes; You will find us always on the job - The UNITED STATES MARINES."

"Here's health to you and to our Corps which we are proud to serve; In many a strife we've fought for life and never lost our nerve; If the Army and the Navy ever look on Heaven's scenes; They will find the streets are guarded by UNITED STATES MARINES," they finished, and a large roar of cheers resonated throughout the camp.

Now that the song was over, the soldiers started dispersing away from the crate and more towards the mess hall. Orihime quickly caught Renji's arm before he walked away and handed him four cigarettes as payback for what he loaned her, including an extra.

"Thanks," Renji said gratefully, and continued on towards the mess hall after Orihime nodded at him.

Then Orihime set the rest of the cigarettes on the crate in front of Ichigo and murmured under her breath, "Here."

Ichigo looked up at her, his eyes a mixture of anticipation and confusion. "What are these for?"

"I don't smoke," Orihime excused, shrugging her shoulders a bit. Ichigo hesitated at taking the cigarettes, and she nodded in verification. He took the cigarettes in his fist and shoved them inside his pocket for later.

"Thanks," Ichigo quietly replied. "So you did pretty well for never having played before."

"I learn quickly," she answered.

He nodded and stuffed his unslung hand into his pocket. "I figured that."

Ichigo nodded and glanced at the mess hall, which was starting to become packed with soldiers. Orihime looked over his shoulder at the busy place and suggested, "Do you want to go eat? Rukia said I have to be with you. I can always bring your meal to your bed."

"I'm good to go in," Ichigo replied. He turned towards the mess hall and heard Orihime's footsteps behind him. She followed him up the wooden stairs and through the propped-open doors into the mess hall.

Orihime looked around at the raucous young men in matching uniform pants and white undershirts and couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. She stuck close to Ichigo's side so she wouldn't be lost in the crowd. As Ichigo navigated between the tables that were swarming with soldiers, somebody accidentally bumped into Orihime and Ichigo continued, oblivious to the accident, drifting away from her.

"Sorry!" She exclaimed to whoever she hit, and she scrambled forward towards Ichigo. When she caught up to Ichigo, she gently gripped his arm so she wouldn't be split up from him anytime soon. His fingers twitched in surprise, but he held her grip and continued to walk.

Eventually, Ichigo led her to the very back of the mess hall, where there was a long cafeteria-style table in front of a kitchen. The cooks were constantly putting out more and more food for the steady stream of soldiers. He handed her a tray and they moved through the line. Once Orihime and Ichigo had gotten their meal, which consisted of corned beef, a biscuit, and a cup of strong-smelling coffee, Orihime followed Ichigo through the crowd once more to find a place to eat.

Then, Orihime caught a glimpse of Rukia among a couple of the few other nurses, all dressed in their stark white uniforms. "I'm going to eat with Rukia," she told Ichigo, having to speak louder than usual for him to hear her over the din of the mess hall. He nodded in confirmation and Orihime turned away from him, heading towards Rukia and the other nurses.

* * *

**a/n;**

And done! Sorry for the long wait. The holidays have been such a busy time for me. I'll update sooner, ne? Thanks for the feedback, it makes my day. Love you, duckies~!

-Nadeau


	5. flourishing feelings

**love, or something  
**flourishing feelings

* * *

**_October 5th, 1944; 7:43 p.m._**

Ichigo smirked.

He was glad to know that Orihime decided to make friends with the other nurses so that would mean she didn't have to follow him around like a lost little puppy. Then again, he _enjoyed_ her presence. She had a certain lovable-like air around her that made him feel more optimistic, more carefree about things.

Ichigo sighed at this feeling and carried his tray, one-handed, out the mess hall door to the usual spot where he and his friends would sit. Renji and Sado sat around the edge of the camp, leaning against thick tree trunks, eating and laughing, along with a few other soldiers. He took a seat beside Renji and began to eat the corn beef, or 'Bully Beef,' as it was nicknamed in the camp for no apparent reason.

"Damn, that German girl is good-looking. You say she's the new nurse?" Renji asked discreetly, getting straight to the point. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, since he was already finished with dinner. Sado and the others were deep in a conversation about the recently arrived mail.

"Eh..." Ichigo began, a bit startled by Renji's statement before continuing, "... apparently her father was a doctor and he passed it on to her. Although, she doesn't know much English, I'm teaching her." He glanced down at his empty tray in surprise. He hadn't known how hungry he actually was until all the food was gone.

"Speaking of English, her accent kills," Renji continued. He nudged Ichigo's side before snickering softly. "And I guess what they say about German girls having huge chests is pretty true, huh?"

Ichigo nearly choked on his coffee before giving Renji a look. "W-What the hell?" Ichigo exclaimed in shock. He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket, and held the cigarette in his lips while he worked to light it. He cupped the end of the cigarette with his hand, inhaled, and lit the cigarette.

"Hey, don't even try to deny it! You know it's true. And, sensitive much? What, do you like her or something?"

Ichigo opened his mouth, yet no words were released. He sighed and remained silent as he smoked. Then, after he blew out a plume of smoke, he admitted, "Fine. You're right. I can't say I haven't noticed her... assets. But I don't like her like that. Trust me. She practically saved my life and I think I owe her enough to not—"

"Didn't you save her life, too?" Renji interrupted. "Didn't you take her out of her apartment? Wouldn't she have gone straight to a concentration camp if you hadn't found her first?"

"Well, yes, but then I got shot—"

"So you saved her life and she saved yours," Renji interrupted once again. "It's fair game."

"No, no. It's not," Ichigo denied bluntly. "It's different. General Aizen wouldn't like me hitting on one of the nurses." Not to mention Ichigo would feel guilty if he did. He didn't know why, but it felt like he would be taking advantage of Orihime.

(What, do you like her or something?)

"Listen," Renji said silently, putting his hand on his friend's good shoulder before pulling him closer. "I've been seeing Rukia ever since this war started and we've been at this camp. The general doesn't know. I even _fucked_ her one time in these very woods, behind the hospital tent."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow before slowly nodding as an uncomfortable silence fell upon them, or at least on Ichigo. Renji just sat there contentedly, staring at the stars that were starting to peek through the purple sky, smoking his cigarette, which was growing shorter by the second. Eventually, Ichigo stood up and saluted his friend. "Well, see you tomorrow, Renji."

"Will do," Renji answered back.

Ichigo turned in his empty tray to the kitchen staff, turned around, headed out the mess hall doors, and began the trek back to the hospital tent.

His cigarette puttered out, so he tossed it to the ground, smashing it to ashy bits with his boot. Ichigo flipped the tent flap back and casually walked in, over to his cot. He unstrapped his boots and collapsed onto his pillow. Some of the nurses still on duty, were distributing the meals to the bed-ridden soldiers. Other cots were left empty from the soldiers who could take themselves to the mess hall without the aid of a nurse.

Ichigo's shoulder was starting to throb again, so he covered himself with the bed sheets and attempted to fall asleep. Soon, he heard the tent flap pushed aside as people entered the tent. He opened his eyes just enough to look through his eyelashes to see Orihime walk in with Rukia, along with the rest of the nurses. Orihime was carrying her knapsack and books, which she must have gotten from a storage place. The other nurses left for their turn at supper as Ichigo watched Orihime walk within a yard or two of him.

(What, do you like her or something?)

Ichigo vigorously shook his head, ridding himself of Renji's voice. Through his eyelashes, he could see Orihime look at him with concern. She probably thought he was moving in his sleep because of shoulder pain… But she had no idea. Ichigo tried his best to keep still, making his chest rise up and down rhythmically.

Convinced he was in no need of painkillers, Orihime passed through the tent partition which led to a separate room in the hospital tent: the nurses' bedroom. Since his cot was so close to the bedroom, Ichigo could hear Orihime unpacking, though she had very little to unpack. Then, he heard bed sheets rustling, and he figured she was starting to go to sleep. He soon fell into a fitful sleep.

It was no surprise to him that he dreamed of the sniper. He could see the bullet piercing through the air towards him, but he couldn't move, even though he now knew what was coming. The bullet went through his shoulder, and Ichigo fell to the ground. Then, came his ruse. He held up his helmet on his gun and the bullet hit the helmet, knocking it out of the window and to the ground. But this time, when Ichigo looked up to see if the sniper fell for it, he saw the sniper aiming his gun at him. Ichigo had no time to react before a bullet whizzed through the air...

(... and hit him right in the forehead.)

**...**

**_October 5th, 1944; 8:25 p.m._**

Ichigo lurched and sat up at straight as a board in his cot. He was breathing heavily; his shoulder throbbed painfully_._ He forced himself to take slow, deep breaths. Once he was mostly calmed down, he leaned back against his pillow. The room became quiet, except for a sudden, strange noise. He stared blankly into the corner of the dark tent, trying to figure out what the noise was and where it was coming from.

"Eh!" The noise murmured. Ichigo turned his head towards the noise coming from the nurses' bedroom. Suddenly, he began to think of Orihime.

Ichigo quietly sat up, pushed his bed sheets off, and climbed out of his cot. He tip-toed towards the tent partition; the murmuring became more noticeable. He slowly pushed back the flap and went into the room. There were twelve cots, and all of them were occupied by nurses. Ichigo's gaze locked on Orihime, who was curled up on her cot in a corner of the room.

She started mumbling again. He heard, "Mami! Papa! Bruder! Nein!" He had no idea what she was saying, but she sounded traumatized by it. Ichigo looked around the bedroom at the nurses, but no one seemed to notice Orihime's outbursts… yet. Ichigo's blood turned to ice at what he heard next.

"Der Fuhrer!" Orihime moaned, twisting in her bed sheets. He knew exactly what, or who, she meant by that. Hitler. Then, she started crying, quite loudly. "Nein, Ichigo, nein!" He quickly crossed the room to her and sat down at the edge of her cot. He had to keep her quiet so the other nurses wouldn't wake up.

(And to see what was wrong.)

* * *

**a/n;**

Mou, sorry this took awhile to update and the shortness of the chapter. I had a bit of a Writers' Block lately... And I figured you guys have waited long enough, so yeah. Hopefully, the updates will be more frequent in the future. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)

P.S. Again, big thanks to _Castle Anthrax_ for cooperating with me and checking the chapters for any errors and/or inaccuracies. Your help is greatly appreciated. :)

-Nadeau


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